Every Day There Comes A Moment When

If There Is A Sense Of Reality, There Must Also Be A Sense Of Possibility.

Mathematics Is The Source Of A Wicked Intellect That, While Making Man The Lord Of The Earth, Also Makes Him The Slave Of The Machine.

It Will Always Be The Same Possibilities, In Sum Or On The Average, That Go On Repeating Themselves Until A Man Comes Along Who Does Not Value The Actuality Above Idea. It Is He Who First Gives The New Possibilities Their Meaning, Their Direction, And He Awakens Them.

... The Structure Of A Page Of Good Prose Is, Analyzed Logically, Not Something Frozen But The Vibrating Of A Bridge, Which Changes With Every Step One Takes On It.

[...] A Number Of Flawed Individuals Can Often Add Up To A Brilliant Social Unit.